My Roots: Two Poems by Sabrina Busch

On May 4, 2019, we welcomed an enthusiastic group of emerging Vancouver writers to our My Roots Free Writing Workshop for immigrants who shared their stories on belonging & home with author and facilitator Aislinn Hunter. We’re thrilled to share a selection of these pieces with you. 

“Well-Framed” and “Memory Pulp – What Home Is Made Of” by Sabrina Busch


In this photograph
I’m 12 000 km away from home.
We are blurred out against a baby blue background
with bubbles rising up beside our bodies.
We squint our eyes and show our teeth –
my uneven dimples and your perfect beard.

In this photograph
we left our primal matter.
Or did we plunge back into it
only for some seconds? How to stay longer forgotten.
Shifted by the current, by stopped breath,
your arm is around my waist so I don’t drift away
while our hair floats out of the frame.


Memory Pulp – What Home Is Made Of

The warm and soft fabric of the bedding and its smell caused by my mom’s exaggerated use of detergent. The neighbor’s salt water pool – how the sun left a grainy mark in the shape of South America on my stomach. Emil, my first car in all its tiny glory and how it allowed me to leave and come back when I pleased. And wood. Always wood. The pine and oak trunks in the forest with their rough bark or soft patches of moss or romantic vines of ivy, their chopped-up pieces bearing splinters, carefully stacked up to be fed to the oven. Wood soaked in water, wrung out, pressed and printed – telling stories I was eager to read. Books next to my bed, on my shelf, on my desk, books in my bag and forgotten on the living room table. Books with broken spines and dog-eared pages. First about horses, then about lovers and then about worlds far away from mine.


Lauren Dembicky